Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-Five
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What will be for dinner today?
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Hot air balloon off in the distance. Clear sky. It is not yet 40 degrees. How do they stay warm up there?
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I find two really healthy rosemary plants and stick them in the cart. Looking at them makes me happy.
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Looking forward to the day when I don’t have to keep talking about electronics and v-bucks.
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Clear blue sky. Starlings singing so loudly. Bright yellow sun. The crunch of pea gravel under our feet. The gentle bubbling of the fountain. I imagine it will be filled with lily pads in the spring. Beams of light coming through the thick naked vines of the arbor above us.
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I really wish I could see the art.
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Blue cheese biscuit with prosciutto, microgreens, crispy shallots, and a housemade jalapeño jam. I want three more of these.
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The bottom of the chocolate has gold lions.
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Details matter.
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I do a little more laundry and then head out to the front deck and lay in the sun. I hear birds and the closing of a car door and my child’s voice flowing out of the window.
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Glad I chose a simple dinner that required little effort.
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“Another thing about knowing who you are is that you know what you should not be doing, which can save you a lot of heartaches and false starts if you catch it early on.” - Twyla Tharp, The Creative Habit
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-Four
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How do I make sure that even though I am working today, I find ways to rest?
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This really is my most favorite room in the house: only cream and white, the deep wood tones of the desk. I could leave the walls bare. Maybe I would consider black and white line drawings. It feels like a cloud.
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Bright, bright sun.
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I laugh at the cards because they are exactly right. Your power comes from your gifts, they say. Mother Earth is calling you to reconnect…use her energy to aid you, they say. Don’t worry so much…remember to take a break because the cemeteries are filled with people who thought they were indispensable, they say.
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Laundry and laughs.
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The weather is almost perfect.
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These aren’t 6-bottle. Sigh. Another thing to fix next week.
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This is a good group. I’d love it if all of my tastings were like this.
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He does the driving. I will never take this for granted.
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Daydreaming about tomorrow. Remembering to stay present to what is happening today.
One Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-Three
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The plunkplunkplunk of rain on the roof.
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Thick fog in the trees.
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I start with a bowl of leftovers - warmed ratatouille with goat cheese - and a big pot of hot lemon water.
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“Life is available only in the present moment, and we already have more than enough conditions to be happy.” - The Art of Living, Thich Nhat Hanh
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These are good people.
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The drive is quick. The time away is necessary. The food is just as tasty as I remember. She says something about happiness that reminds me of what I was reading early this morning. I take it as a sign. Time with her is always restorative.
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I need the recipe for this. Costa Brava Sage - Coconut & ginger infusion with a hint of Spanish Sage.
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I listen to the conversation and make a mental list of the books I need to add to my hold list at the library. The downside of listening to podcasts while driving is the inability to take notes.
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“There’s a place for simplicity, too, but there’s often a speed — we’re moving with such speed, instead of taking time to really question, how am I seeing this, and how am I perceiving, and how am I hearing, and what am I missing? And who’s missing around the table? And what tools are we missing in our work? And what are we taking for granted? Those are the questions, to me, that lead to, that get at the mechanics of moral transformation.” - On Being Podcast with Ariel Burger
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We make the drive down the valley to pick up fried chicken because the teen has been eating so much these days, there is no such thing as leftovers anymore. Will need to rethink my menu plans for the upcoming week.
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How do I feel happy again?
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-One
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The first bit of light.
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I finish the scholarship application. This feels right. We’ll see what happens.
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Maybe it wasn’t the taste I missed, but the ritual of it.
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I sit and breathe.
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The sunrise is so beautiful but I can’t quite capture it with my phone. It doesn’t matter. It is enough that I was able to witness it.
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The colors of the coffee and the frothy oat milk in this midnight blue mug and the blue-gray-gold slate floor.
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I tell him that sometimes I just need to get out of the house. These short trips to and from school satisfy that need.
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The black man with the hot pink dreads in his CIA coat rides by us on his bike. “There he is!” I say.
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Diving timing? Signs? Confirmation of the spirit? Whatever it is, I am exactly where I’m supposed to be at this moment.
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He eats a third helping of farro and I feel like I’ve won the Mothering Olympics today.
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty
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An unfamiliar sound.
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Already dreaming about the first cup of decaf.
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At the end of the meditation, she asks you to set an intention for the day. I want a day of quiet ease.
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Man. This decaf tastes so good.
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Orange-gold sun reflecting off the windows.
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The young man isn’t there. I want him to be there, but he isn’t. I check again on my way back from the library. I must have missed him today. Maybe next time.
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Her face. Her dimples. Her glasses. The real talk. Having those in your circle who are not afraid to ask questions and are okay with not having any answers.
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The change is coming. I can feel it.
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It is three hours out of our day, but their hair cuts are fire.
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I tell her that my tolerance for bullshit just keeps getting lower and lower.
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“But I am also worried about being perceived as a quitter,” they write. “That’s just white supremacy.”
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Nineteen
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I want flow.
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One more cycle of the dishwasher before the water goes.
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Thick stripes of watery tangerine in the sky. Silhouettes of redwoods and Douglas firs.
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There are empty oatmeal packets in the trash? When did he come down to eat again?
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Water is off. At least they are in school. We can manage just fine when it’s just the two of us.
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He says he’s starving. I ask him if he’s the one who ate all of the oatmeal. He confirms. Thirds at dinner. Ice cream. Four packets of instant oatmeal. Breakfast. He eats almost an entire pizza for lunch. I tell him he will be out of his shoes before the end of the month.
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I take a splinter out of his hand. He chuckles. “I feel really tall.”
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Solo walk. I look out over the hill and down into the valley below. Naked vines and bright green cover crop. Sunshine. Mustard. Deep breath.
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Beef stroganoff.
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Trivia after dinner.
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Eighteen
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Dream 1: I wake up and a tooth falls out of my mouth. I know it’s because I was clenching too tightly and forgot to use the guard. I let out a little whimper as I pull tiny bits of bone out of my mouth.
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Dream 2: Julie is there but she is the only person from my current life. The rest of the people are from high school. It’s like some weird kind of high school reunion, Halloween edition. As I’m walking under a stone bridge on the campus, I hear a voice saying my name over and over again. I tell Kara that the building is haunting me. I quicken my steps.
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Monday that is also a Sunday. Gratitude.
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The sound of rain drops on the roof.
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I break down and buy a canister of decaf beans and some oat milk because I just really want a cup of coffee.
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I put a cloth on the table and place a bowl of oranges on top. He asks me if I am taking a picture. No. I just wanted a little bit of beauty.
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Industry sessions. Every time I do one of these I remember how much I actually enjoy studying wine. Work takes me away from the bits that I enjoy. How do I bring more of that back?
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Turns out I really like Madeira.
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I worry, even though I know I’m not supposed to worry.
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No water tomorrow. Do all the water things today.
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Seventeen
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Still sore.
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A plate of figs and water. Really missing coffee.
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Her voice. A pang of sadness. A swell of gratitude for our friendship.
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“The same is true with chasing after signs of success, wealth, or status. We may do it, not because we think it’s important, but because we think others expect it of us. But when we truly see the cost of these pursuits, and the hook in them, we won’t want to keep running after them anymore.” - The Art of Living, Thich Nhat Hanh
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Surrendering to sleep.
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He drives. I stare out the window. The tourists are pulled over on the sides of roads taking pictures of themselves in the mustard and the sheep grazing between the rows.
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I just want to go back to bed.
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Too much popcorn.
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Lots of laughter on today’s call. The best way to end a Sunday.
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Wishing that this one thing was already possible right now. Trying to detach from the yearning. Trying not to stress too much about the timeline. Things will work themselves out. They always do.
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Sixteen
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Better.
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There’s still plenty of V8 left.
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I always enjoy these morning chats with her. She recommends Teechino. She gets it. Coffee has a certain weight in the mouth that tea just can’t replicate.
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Silver tea.
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The cows roam free. You can hear them moo. The hills are big and green and the sky is blue. Oh, yes, this.
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The comfort of a familiar face and a shared history. The sunshine. Knowing that you’ve already made a plan for the following month. So grateful the weather decided to play nice today.
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“…Everything you want’s a dream away...” - Coldplay
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She gets out of her silver Porsche SUV and hands me a big stack of old issues of Sunset Magazine. She’s wearing a thin black quilted Patagonia vest over a tunic and baggy pants - all black. I can tell she’s smiling behind her mask.
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The girls roll out the pasta and make the noodles.
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Already sore. But in a satisfying way.
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Fifteen
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The creak of the door. It’s only 12:16 am.
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1:35 am.
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3:24 am.
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I decide that it doesn’t make any sense to keep lying here. And didn’t I tell him yesterday that I’d finally been able to get myself back to sleep?
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He reminds me not to work too much today since it’s my day off.
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She moves us through the chakras.
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I remember why I don’t like the mall.
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As we enter the upper part of the valley, they marvel at the beauty of the mustard and the wineries and the way the clouds make shadows on the hills and mountains. Yeah, we do live in a beautiful place.
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“Oh, it’s crispy up where we are,” she says. I laugh. She’s right. It is definitely crispy near us.
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I just need to get some sleep.
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We’re sitting here at the table talking and I am imagining what these conversations will be like in two years and five years. Not so tiny humans anymore.
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Fourteen
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Cleaning clothes.
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I realize that I forgot to do her hair before I left.
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“Accepting confidence is about the consent to receive confidence…” - Sarah Jakes Roberts
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She isn’t here. I always like to talk to her. But she must be busy; maybe it’s just the time of year.
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I really like this therapist. He’s good. I really like that my son doesn’t mind talking to him. He eats samosas while he listens.
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“One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul.”
― Clarissa Pinkola Estés -
In good company.
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The rain is falling harder, and the wind is starting to blow it under the tent. It is quiet and peaceful.
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He asks me how I’m sleeping. I say good. But then I think. “Actually…one morning, I woke up at 2:00am, and then a few days, I woke up at 3:00am. But I guess I’m getting better at putting myself back to sleep. Oh! The frogs stop croaking a little after 3.”
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Hot water. Lydia Davis. Trois Noix.
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Thirteen
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I could curl up here forever.
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Not much fog this morning.
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She decides to make her oatmeal from scratch. She is trying to be a vegetarian. “…because of the animals.”
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A shift of the morning routine to accommodate the day’s needs. Remember to be flexible.
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I think I got it.
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Clearest of blue skies, bright sun, quiet. There are worse things. And this is a much-needed break from the desk.
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Burnt egg rolls.
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Tree roots busting up the concrete. Sun coming through the trees making the mustard glow.
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We live three lives at once.
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Mistake. But an easy fix. But I still don’t like making a mistake. But mistakes are normal. But I don’t like it.
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Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it.
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Twelve
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I can still hear the bullfrogs.
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I see her picture of her cup of coffee, and I think that I should probably get some decaf.
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“The concentration on aimlessness means arriving in the present moment to discover that the present moment is the only moment in which you can find everything you’ve been looking for, and that you already are everything you want to become.” - The Art of Living, Thich Nhat Hanh
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Someone forgot their Chromebook. Pretty sure I have a checklist for a reason.
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All of a sudden, her jeans are too tight. How is that possible? This isn’t the pants; it’s something else. Tween girls. Who knows.
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I am distracted by the other things on the to-do list.
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Finally, a walk. It is chilly, but not bad. It just feels good to move.
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“But we call it a treehouse for a reason.” But now I sound like everyone else.
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They were cleaning out the closets and stumbled upon old artwork and books and pictures. They read one from when I was in first grade. The kids are amazed that I wrote something that coherent at that age. We laugh at the pictures and the poems. I should keep more of my own kids stuff.
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No amount of caramel sauce will help this faux ice cream.
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Eleven
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Not too early, but also not yet time.
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I stare at the giant jars of mate.
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“A master of disguise, the moth can blend into the point of invisibility. This is a metaphor for us to use our environment to our advantage, blend in when necessary, adjust and adapt when the situation requires it.”
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I promise myself to get back to the routines that nourish. I will go farther if I go slower.
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The first bit of light coming through the trees. Strips of pink cotton candy and white clouds and pale blue.
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The crunch of toasted tortilla chips.
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The irony is that I did all of that so that I wouldn’t feel this kind of anxiety.
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He wants to know if he can take ony two showers a week so that the temporary tatoos don’t wash off. Then he decides that he can give only the candy and not the tatoos so that he can have all 32 of the tattoos. I laugh and laugh.
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The croaking.
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Just sleep.
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Ten
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2:04 am.
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4:06 am.
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Hungover but I didn’t even drink. Not enough water? Anxiety?
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Tea for me and coffee for her.1000 miles apart. We agree that there needs to be a third season.
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Oh, good. He does not want to take the cardboard up valley today either. Now we can just get straight to building the little dresser.
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I tell him that I can’t do it anymore. This is the last one. Too much stress, not enough joy. He agrees.
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I take a break on the front deck and lay on the bench with my face toward the sun. “My family in Wisconsin said it’s negative eighteen degrees!” She yells from the road. “I feel bad saying how beautiful it is here!”
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Nachos with bacon and beef and chorizo, topped with cheese and scallions. The game is really only about the snacks.
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Just let it go.
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”Your here used to be there.” - Sarah Jakes Roberts
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Nine
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3:07 am. Uh-oh. No. Not again.
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Moths against the window.
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Trying to settle my nerves. I want the mate but I probably shouldn’t. I want the coffee but I probably shouldn’t.
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I see a tall black woman with curly hair walk into Whole Foods and I know exactly who she is. He tells me to go ahead and introduce myself, though.
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Why is it so hard to find these rice noodles?
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It is frustrating, but at least I am learning something new.
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He tells me to trust my instinct.
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He offers to drive, which heh always does, and really it is the best thing.
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I am sweating, but it is gorgeous here. And the women I am with are amazing. And maybe that is all that matters.
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The time went by faster than I intended. Did I get everything? I think I did. Maybe I didn’t? I don’t know. I suddenly can’t remember.
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Maybe I do not have the nerves for this.
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Eight
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I wonder what time the frogs stop their croaking.
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Where are my leggings?
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We lean the bolsters on the stacked blocks and rest here at the end. This. I need to do this more often. Fridays with her are just my favorite.
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Cold ankles.
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Where is the time going?
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So much sun. The landscapers are out. He always waves to me through the windows.
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I warm up the samosas for them as an afterschool snack. She still insists on making macaroni and cheese.
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I feel so fiery today. It’s because of the sun.
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I tell him that I don’t think I can drink the mate because I’m feeling the same things I feel when I drink coffee. He thinks it’s because I drank the entire french press in one sitting. He might be right.
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I haven’t laughed this much in a long time. Sacred space it is, this collective of people who wish to be their whole selves in a space that hasn’t always been open to them. Dreaming of outdoor garden parties with long tables and plenty of glassware and candle light and flowers and, and, and, and. All of this is part of the dream.
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred and Seven
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First thought: I need to say no.
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I think of the writing session and the talk about patterns and the snarl in a pattern. What patterns do I wish to continue? Where are the snarls? Do the snarls point me toward a better solution?
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Hashbrowns and bacon and V8. I forgot to buy tea from the grocery store yesterday. Or, maybe I should just fork over the money for Mudwater. Or, maybe I will just keep drinking warm water.
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Sun, sun, sun.
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Clean.
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l ride with him to pick the kids up because I need to get out of the house. As in, my spirit is agitated, and this is what will fix it. Or maybe it’s because I didn’t journal this morning.
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I say something about having wanted to be a good artist. She corrects me. She is right. I do make art. But there are other kinds of art I wish I were good at making. Sculpture, for one. Weaving. Painting. Drawing. Printmaking.
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He orders the tacos, and I grab the Canela and yerba mate.
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They tell us that the lockdown was so strict that you couldn’t even walk your dog. Couldn’t even be in your own yard. And to think how Americans feel so disenfranchised by a mask.
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She tells me that she cannot kill the snails in her garden because of me, even though she would like to.
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Finally, the mail. A sweet package from her. “I do miss my friends, too,” I say. “I miss them a lot.”
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Six
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I forgot.
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Sometimes the universe tests your truth by presenting things that look like opportunities but are not aligned with your values.
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The sound of swishing water in the washing machine.
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Finally, alone. Soaking in the silence while it lasts. I take a picture.
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I move upstairs so that I have a little bit of privacy while we talk. So good to see a familiar face. We talk about goals and routines and Bridgerton and how toddler tantrums are not much different from teenage tantrums.
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The sound of rain. The wetting of the deck. Looking up toward the trees.
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I admit to him that I’m worried it won’t work out. “Look at where you are. Look at how many people told us this would never happen.”
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“What’s your Lexile score?” big brother says to little sister. “I don’t know,” she says. “What is it?” he says again. “What’s yours?” she replies. “No, what’s yours? I asked you first.” “I don’t know! Tell me. What’s yours?!” “1245,” he says. “1247!” she laughs. We all laugh. So hard. I am relieved.
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Again, the frogs.
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Ice cream with caramel sauce. I may regret it in the morning, but I do not regret it right now.
Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Five
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In the dream, Beyonce has asked me to take her portrait in her home. I have driven all the way to Los Angeles to do this. I have all of the props, but as I walk up the stairs, I realize that I do not have my camera. She tells me that she asked me to come a day early just to make sure everything is set correctly. I am relieved. I can go back home and get my camera. I am not ruined.
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We should normalize changing one’s mind. Isn’t there a meme about that? Normalize changing one’s mind upon learning new information? Yes.
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Out of ginger and cinnamon sticks. Why didn’t I buy any tea last week?
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His eyes look gray, like a wolf. Could be the screen. I don’t know. I am mesmerized and terrified.
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Sometimes you just have no control over the disruptions of your day.
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It must be the same robin. Every day it thrusts its body against the window trying to break in. Bird brain.
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I break the mailbox key. I laugh.
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Of course she watched it. We text about the characters and the criticism.
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Familiar faces. Writing in community. I love this. I love, love, love it. This makes me happy. This is worth being late to dinner.
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The frogs are so, so loud. They make me smile.